Notes
by sherlostor
Summary: Sherlock receives a note saying the next person he speaks to will die. John receives a note saying that unless Sherlock speaks to him within 48 hours, a bomb will go off killing thousands. Will Sherlock be able to solve the mystery in time? Will he have to choose between his best friend and thousands of people? Will John survive this ordeal?
1. Chapter 1

Chapter 1

A note arrived at 221 B Baker Street with only the name Sherlock written on the front. John Watson inspected it as he brought it up the stairs.

"Hrph," he said to himself as he entered the doorway into the sitting room. Sherlock was lying down staring at the ceiling, as he often did. He said no words as John handed him the envelope. He seemed to be uninterested but John saw the sparkle in his eye that told him that this note had caught Sherlock's attention. Sherlock's long, thin fingers toyed with the flap of the letter until it came open. Sherlock blinked a few times.

"What's it say, Sherlock?" John asked in a curious tone. Sherlock flicked the note in John's general direction without saying a word.

It read: THE NEXT PERSON YOU SPEAK TO WILL DIE. SPEAK CAREFULLY. John's eyes widened as he read the words on the note.

"You can't seriously believe this Sherlock?" John laughed trying to ease some of the awkward silence he was now experiencing. He scratched the back of his neck and looked at Sherlock for a response.

Sherlock opened his mouth and then closed it. He couldn't tell John that he believed that the note had every intention of carrying out what it promised. There was only one thing that Sherlock could do. Find the culprit and talk to him. Brilliant! He would let the author of the note lose at his own game. He then got up from the couch, grabbed his coat and scarf, popped his collar, and ran from the room down the stairs and out of the apartment.

John stared towards the direction of the stairs shook his head and then took a seat on his favorite chair. Just as he was starting to relax he heard a knock at the door.

"Great," he muttered to himself as he ran down and opened the door. No one was there. He looked around and down the street, but he could not see anyone. He was about to close the door when he noticed a note sitting on the ground. He picked it up and inspected it. It had his name written on the front and it was very close to the note that Sherlock had gotten.

He quickly ripped open the envelope and read it.

YOU HAVE 48 HOURS TO GET MR. HOLMES TO SPEAK TO YOU. WE HAVE PLANTED A BOMB AT A PLACE WHERE THOUSANDS OF PEOPLE WILL GET HURT. IF YOU FAIL AT THIS TASK IT WILL BE DETONATED.

John felt his stomach churn. So this was their game. He would have to somehow get Sherlock to speak to him, and in all essence kill him. He would have to die to save everyone. He was brave. There was no choice but to force Sherlock to speak to him. He had been in combat before; he would bring a gun and hope that he could get the upper hand on his killer. This is what he held onto as he walked straight out of the door and went to find Sherlock.


	2. Chapter 2

**Hi Everyone, thank you for favoriting and following this story. My goal is to update at least once a day, but we'll see how this goes. Enjoy the chapter. **

Chapter 2

Sherlock could go days without talking. Yet, now he found that when someone told him not to talk he only wanted to talk more. Anyone who glared at him for whatever reason would make him want to speak. It was tempting at times to say something, and kill them off. He knew that this whole ordeal was a challenge, really. He liked challenges. He would solve this case in no time. No one would die.

His first thought when he read the note was Moriarty. Sure, it wasn't his writing on the note, but he was sure Moriarty's hand was in this. To what extent, he wasn't sure.

He was on his way to see DI Lestrade. He'd rather not have to get him involved, but he needed some handwriting samples from criminals to figure this one out. All he knew was that he had never seen the handwriting before. He would have know who it was from, even if they tried to change it.

He already knew exactly where the envelope was from. He would go there later, but now was not the time. His biggest qualm with not talking was that he could not hail a taxi. He could just text Lestrade and tell him to bring the samples, but Sherlock always loved being dramatic.

He arrived at the station and went directly to Lestrade's office, despite a few protests while he made his way there. Lestrade was kicked back in his chair eating a donut. Sherlock rolled his eyes. When Lestrade saw him he quickly straightened up.

"What are you doing? Can't you see I'm busy," he said making it obvious that he was painfully not busy. "What do you need?"

Sherlock thrust his note at Lestrade, hitting him square in the face.

"Hey!" Lestrade exclaimed, glaring at Sherlock as he picked up the note that had ended up on the floor next to his desk. He looked to Sherlock for some witty comment, but Sherlock had nothing to say. He quickly opened the note and read it.

After reading it, a smile broke out on his face, and he said, "You can't seriously believe this can you?"

Sherlock opened his mouth for a second, tempted to say something to test the note's threat, but thought better about it after seeing Lestrade's eyes open a little wider.

"I'm guessing you want something from me then?" Lestrade said to him. Sherlock looked at Lestrade's desk and quickly wrote handwriting on a notepad that he found.

"Ah, yes," Lestrade responded. He couldn't help but feel respect for Sherlock. Albeit, he was highly amused that Sherlock couldn't talk and show off. "I'll be right back."

He left Sherlock sitting alone, and went to talk to the resident handwriting expert. After a short talk with him, Lestrade had convinced him to hand over the files and he quickly made his way back to Sherlock.

When he arrived back at his office he gave Sherlock the files. Sherlock quickly looked through them.

_Ah, yes, that's what I thought. _Sherlock knew what he had to do next, so he got up dipped his head in goodbye and walked out of Lestrade's office.

Lestrade was left standing. "Ok then," he said to himself and sat back down in his chair.


	3. Chapter 3

**Again, thanks to all who are enjoying my story! It means a lot.**

Chapter 3

John had no idea where Sherlock went to. It was infuriating that he would just suddenly disappear. He did that often. John knew that it was probably because Sherlock had faith in John's detective abilities, or at least he wanted to test them.

He racked his brain to try and figure out where he could be. Had Sherlock already figured out who wrote the note and was on the way to the source? He would never find him in that case. He ended up deciding to go see if he had visited Lestrade. He hailed a taxi, and after several failed attempts was on his way to the police station.

Once he arrived, he asked the policeman in the front to see Lestrade.

"He's busy," was the response.

John squinted at the guy. "Please, it's very important."

The guy looked at him for a few seconds, before giving the go ahead.

"Thanks," John muttered as he started walking towards Lestrade's office. Once he arrived he came to two realizations. One: that Sherlock was not there. Two: that Lestrade was not as busy and the policeman let on.

"Take a seat, John," Lestrade said pointing to the chair in front of his desk. John pulled the chair out and sat in it.

"Thanks," John replied.

"You just missed Sherlock."

John rose his eyebrows. "Ah. So where is he now?"

"I have no idea. You do know he can't talk, right?"

"Yes, of course. In fact, read this," he said offering his own note to Lestrade.

"You do realize we must put police on this right away. I wish you would have notified me sooner," Lestrade stated. "I must make a few phone calls." Lestrade quickly dialed the bomb squad and a few of his best officers to join the case. John knew that they wouldn't need them. He had faith in Sherlock. He let Lestrade try to feel he would accomplish something, though.

After Lestrade had stopped on the phone he wished John luck finding Sherlock. John stood up, thanked him and left the police station.

_Well that was a waste of time, _he thought to himself as he exited. He had no idea where Sherlock could be at. He decided it might be best to go back to the flat and wait for Sherlock to return.

He hailed a taxi and quickly made his way home. 221 B Baker Street. He thought fondly of it. Suddenly, he realized that this might be one of the last times in this place.

_Stop it, John. Sherlock can solve this. I won't have to die._ He didn't want to die. He had faith in Sherlock, but it had already been a few hours since he had received his note: a note that Sherlock had no idea existed.

He was sitting alone in the flat getting more and more anxious. He tapped his feet and tried to read the newspaper, but to no avail. His thoughts were going into darker and darker places.

_What if Sherlock can't solve this? _He had no regrets. Sherlock had given him the best years of his life. His life had meaning when they solved the cases and he felt he was truly doing good. Sure, if he never met Sherlock he wouldn't be in this predicament, but he would rather have died a thousand times than to have never lived this life at all.

As he was thinking, he heard the sound of rattling keys.

"Sherlock?" he asked, in a slightly relieved tone.

"Guess again."


	4. Chapter 4

**Thanks again for reading. I'd be interested in knowing what you think of the length of my chapters. Should I follow more than one person per chapter or keep it how it is? Feedback is always appreciated! :)**

Chapter Four

He knew Sherlock was coming. He had estimated it taking a few hours for Sherlock to find his location, and time was now up.

He had a person following Sherlock. A master of surveillance, who used to work for the government. A skilled hitman. He knew that even this master could not hide from Sherlock, though. He had never met Sherlock, but he knew all about him and what he could do. He was sure Sherlock knew him too.

He put a hand to his head. Sweat. He was nervous. Dreadfully nervous. This part had to go well or he would be in big trouble. This was his task, and he must succeed.

A knock at the door told him that his predictions were accurate. He strolled to the door, and tried to push down the lump that was forming in his throat.

"Welcome, Sherlock Holmes," he said as he opened the door. He beckoned for Sherlock to come in, and Sherlock happily obliged. They made their way to a small living area, where they both sat down, awkwardly, on the same couch. They both stared at each other, for a few minutes to size each other up.

"This is a talking zone," he said. "Obviously talking to me isn't going to kill me off. How droll that would be. What I want to know is how you found me out so quickly?"

Sherlock looked at him for a moment. In this moment Sherlock did not want to talk, so he sat in silence.

"Ah, this game," he said. His nerves were growing. He had to successfully play his part or he would be dead. He decided that while he was curious, it wasn't crucial that he know how Sherlock had found him. In fact, him being found out was all part of the plan.

He decided to continue. "At this moment, Sherlock, as you are on a wild goose chase to find me, your friend, John Watson, is not having the most pleasant time. Now, of course, dear Sherlock, I'm not going to tell you what his current situation is. That you will have to find out for yourself." He laughed. He felt his nerves subsiding. He had followed this part of the script perfectly.

Sherlock stood up. "Make no mistake, I know who you are and I know what you're doing. You may think you have fooled me, but I am exactly where I want to be. Good day."

Sherlock quickly left the house. He was left sitting alone, on the couch. His work was complete. He felt his nerves rising ever so slightly again because of what Sherlock said.

A few minutes later he heard sirens_. Let them come_, he thought. _This show is only just beginning. _


	5. Chapter 5

**I tried to make this chapter a little longer today. I hope you enjoy! Again, feedback is always appreciated. **

Chapter 5

_Of course_, John thought. _Who else?_ In the door stood a person he would be happy if he never saw again. Jim Moriarty.

"How'd you get keys to this apartment?" John demanded, glaring at him.

"John. Dear, loyal, John. Do you really think I can't get keys to an apartment?" Moriarty chuckled and invited himself in. He walked up the stairs and stood beside John.

John frowned at him, while biting his lip. He was thinking about Sherlock's whereabouts in the back of his mind. _He'd be here soon._

"I should have known you were behind this," John replied. He walked away from Moriarty and sat down on the sofa. Moriarty followed him, sitting as close to him as possible. John scooted away.

"Getting uncomfortable, John?" Moriarty asked. He was enjoying this little game.

"No, of course not. I just want to know WHY YOU ARE IN MY FLAT," John said raising his voice. He started controlling his breathing. He mustn't get mad. Moriarty can't win.

"This is fun, isn't it? A good, old fashioned mystery. You might think I am behind this one. But I'm not alone. Remember that I'm a consulting criminal. Well, I was consulted on this one. And that's all I'm going to say." Moriarty smiled at John in a way that made John's skin boil.

"Sherlock will win, he always does," John replied curtly.

"He wins because I let him." Moriarty started to hum a tune, which John did not recognize. He was beginning to wonder why Moriarty was here at all.

"I'd appreciate it if you would get out of my flat now. Please." John stood up and made a gesture in the general direction of the door.

"Okay. There is just one problem."

"What is that?"

"I'm going to have to bring you with me." Before John can fully react, Moriarty was upon him and he sprayed something in John's face. John tried to push Moriarty away, but he became weaker and weaker until he drifted off.

John woke up in a haze. He couldn't remember where he was. He blinked a few times, but he couldn't see anything. He groaned, which made him realize that he was tied and gagged. It was dark. Very dark. When his eyesight adjusted he could only make out a small ray of light coming from beneath the door. The room seemed to be painted completely black. The doors, the floors, the walls. Everything.

_Where am I?_ He wondered. This overcomplicated things. How was he going to possibly be able to talk to Sherlock now.

A sudden, dismal thought jolted him. He suddenly felt extreme nauseous. _How much time had passed?_

He tried to reassure himself by thinking that there was no way Moriarty would rather the bomb go off than making Sherlock decide between killing his best friend or killing thousands.

He was sitting for a while when he suddenly heard the sound of the door opening.

A man, whom he didn't recognize, walked in. John looked him over. The man was wearing skinny jeans, with a collared shirt, and a sleek black tie. John closed his eyes for a moment, trying to concentrate on who this man could be. Nothing came to his mind.

"Hello, John. My name is Gabriel Larson. You don't know who I am, so I'll give you the low down. I am partners with a very important man who, well, let's just say got bored with what he was doing. So, he decided to have some fun with one of London's most famous detectives. Plus, if anyone takes a hit at Sherlock, Moriarty is always interested. He's very tough to find, you know. Thankfully, my partner and I are quite brilliant, so it wasn't too hard to get him in with this deal."

John took a few seconds to let all of it sink in. He couldn't shake the feeling that something wasn't right. It was Moriarty. There is no way that Moriarty would ever let anyone out shine him. Especially, when it came to Sherlock.

Gabriel continued. "At this moment, Sherlock has talked to our dear friend, Charlie. He should have made Sherlock alerted to the fact that you are here with us." He smiled at John. "He'll be here soon, John. No need to worry." He then left the room.

John felt a wave of relief fall over him. If Sherlock was coming then everything would be okay. He just hoped that Sherlock came sooner rather than later.


	6. Chapter 6

**Hey guys. Thanks again for all the nice feedback I've been receiving I greatly appreciate it. Sorry I was unable to update my story yesterday. I worked most of the day and then slept over at a friend's house. To make up for that I'm posting an extra long chapter today. I hope you enjoy it!**

Chapter 6

A little after John had left the police station, Lestrade got a text from Sherlock. It contained an address and the message, "Start here." Lestrade scratched his head_. Well, okay_, he thought to himself before calling a few of his men to his office.

He briefed them on the regrettably little he knew of the situation. His colleagues were familiar with his relationship with Sherlock, though some disapproved of it. They thought it quite odd that the police would need to consult an outside source.

Nonetheless, they respected Lestrade and they knew Sherlock could be trusted to help them catch criminals.

Lestrade knew he wanted his hand in on this one, so he decided that it is best if him, and Sgt. Sally Donovan go alone.

After a short drive there, with some cheek from Sgt. Donovan on the way, they were at the address. Lestrade turned on his sirens to let whoever was in there know he was coming.

"You should go along back, and I'll take the front," he said to her. Maybe it wasn't the brightest idea, but if someone would make a run for it they were clearly guilty.

"Alright," Sally replied, taking out her gun and heading to the back of the house. It was a very petite, seemingly innocent looking place. There were flowers out front, and it was clear that the person spent time making their yard look presentable.

Lestrade walked up the sidewalk that led to the front door and rang the doorbell. No answer. He sighed, and waited a few seconds before re-ringing it. This time he heard shuffling and footsteps until he heard a male voice say, "Who is it?"

"Police. I would appreciate it if you would let me inside," Lestrade replied.

He heard the sound of the door unlocking, and a man with unkempt hair answered the door.

"What seems to be the problem, officer?" he said innocently.

"Uh, well. I received a tip that there might be some illegal activity going on in this house. A plot for murder or otherwise," Lestrade replied.

The man gave him an odd look. "Well, you are welcome to come in and search the place, if you like. I don't know what to tell you." He gestured for Lestrade to come inside.

"Hang on, let me give my fellow officer a buzz so she knows to come round front." He got into contact with Sally quickly, and soon she was with the two men.

Lestrade noticed the man getting a little uncomfortable.

"I'm really sorry, officer, but I suffer from slight agoraphobia. Would it be possible if we just talked alone? We can talk outside, if you like. It's just two officers crowding me makes my anxiety heighten," the man said to Lestrade. He looked to be a little more manic than he was before.

"Uh, sure, I guess that is okay," Lestrade replied. "Inside is fine." He looked at Sgt. Donovan who didn't appear very pleased, but she fulfilled the man's request and made her way towards the police car.

"I'm DI Greg Lestrade, by the way," Lestrade said. "Hopefully we can make this quick. I'll be honest, there wasn't too much to go on with this tip." He smiled at the man.

"It is not a problem. My name is Charlie Moore. I've lived here for a long time, and I've never had any trouble with the police. So, I really don't know what this could be about," the man replied. Lestrade made a mental note to do a background check on him when he was done with the search.

Lestrade followed Charlie through a thorough tour of the house. Everything seemed to be in order to him.

_Hmm,_ he thought. _This man doesn't strike me as a criminal, and we can't really arrest him for no apparent reason. I don't even know if he is the reason I'm here or not._

"Could I possibly have a handwriting sample?" Lestrade asked Charlie after he was done with the door.

"Uh, sure. I guess. Yes," Charlie responded. "I'll just go grab a piece of paper." He left Lestrade standing near the door where they had entered. Charlie soon returned with his signature on a piece of paper.

"I'll need to see you sign this," Lestrade said to him upon seeing the paper.

"Oh, right. S-sorry." He quickly walked back into the room he had come out of. Moments later he appeared with a pen. He took the paper from Lestrade and signed it for him.

_See,_ Lestrade thought. _No problem at all._

"Why don't you read what I wrote. Just to make sure everything is order?" Charlie asked him. Lestrade glanced down at his paper. ONE FALSE MOVE AND YOU'RE DEAD. He gulped and quickly reached for his gun. Charlie's gun had already been drawn while he was reading his paper.

"PUT THE GUN DOWN NOW," Charlie yelled. "Do exactly as I say. Or else." He didn't even seem like the same person. Lestrade was fairly shocked at this turn of events.

"I'm sorry. I really am. I just need to tell you that I was set up for this! Okay. Is it a crime to write a note? I don't think so. I'm just the low man. I do the dirty work. I can help you out here. As long as you promise to leave here quietly. You can't say anything to anyone. You won't find me again. Just write your number down on that paper and give it to me. We'll be in contact again," Charlie said quickly.

Lestrade had no choice but to follow Charlie's request. He would have to ask Sherlock for further instructions. For now, he would have to leave Charlie be.

"Alright," he said. "I'll leave. Here's the number," he said and wrote it down. Charlie escorted him with gun in hand to the door and they exchanged unpleasant goodbyes.

Lestrade hated Sherlock some days. Today was one of them. He walked back to the car and opened up the driver's side door.

"What happened?" Sally asked him in a curious tone.

"Nothing," he muttered, hating himself for saying that. Sally gave him a disappointed glance.

"Waste of time, this was" she replied.

He hoped that he hadn't made a mistake. He suddenly realized he had not even a handwriting sample to show. He could do a check on the man's name, but it was surely an alias. That guy was good. He had half a mind to go back into the house and arrest him. Instead, he got into the car and drove him and Sgt. Donovan back to the station.

Charlie smiled as the officer drove away. His role had been fulfilled yet again. He knew that he now had Lestrade in his hands to toy with. This was going to be fun.


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter 7

Sherlock knew that he was now racing the clock. Charlie Moore had been of great help to him, because he now knew the people he was dealing with. He only hoped Lestrade was smart enough to know as well. He hadn't had the time to send Lestrade more than a brief message. He had a good idea of where John was now and who was behind this.

His main problem was that he had an insufferable man following his every move. He must get this man off his tail quickly, so that he could hail a taxi and rescue John. His solution was simple: get lost in a crowd. He knew that he was dealing with someone who was highly trained, and that this task wouldn't be easy even for an intelligent person. Thankfully, he was above the average intelligent person and could lose him in no time.

He decided to go to The London Underground at Baker Street. It was crowded and full of people heading to various locations for the day. Plus, he knew it very well, and he was sure his purser did not.

On arrival, he made sure to get into the most crowded area of the station. His next step was to follow the crowd where it would go, until there was a safe point of exit. Luckily the crowd passed by a door marked private. He was able to unlock the door quickly and enter. He shut the door and locked it. He had no idea where the man was now, so he knew that he had to act fast. The room was dark and led down into a dimly lighted hallway. At the end of the hallway, was an extremely small window.

Sherlock knew this would have to do. It was just big enough that he could squeeze through it. He knew exactly where this window ended up. (He had, of course, tested this window many times. This situation was bound to arise at some point.) It only took him a few seconds to exit through the window, even though it was sealed shut. He glanced around and did not see the man anywhere. Good.

He double-checked the GPS on his phone for the man, because he had tapped into the man's mobile device. He guessed the man never had to deal with a Sherlock Holmes before. It was best that he not go back to his apartment.

He hailed a taxi and showed the driver a text message on his phone with his destination. He would only talk if he needed to. Death was always messy.

The driver attempted to make conversation with him, but he just ignored him. Eventually the driver ended up muttering to himself. Soon, Sherlock had arrived at his location. He handed the driver some bills to pay for the trip and stepped out.

He checked his GPS again. It seemed like the man was moving towards him. He already knew who the man was. Christophe Hynes. He used to be a renowned agent back in the day, but a huge scandal had caused him to drop out.

Sherlock had to admit he was particularly happy with this case. He would get to deal with an entire crime ring. One of the best there was, and he would also get to best Moriarty once again. This was going to be fun.

Now, he had done extensive research in the past on this crime ring, and he had figured out where their exact location was this week. They tended to move around a lot. This week it was an abandoned office space. The building was square and brown, with many windows. It looked run down, but not completely abandoned.

He walked up to it. The door was unlocked. He rolled his eyes. Of course they knew he was coming. He could leave now, but why miss the fun? He would let them think that they outsmarted him.

He opened the door up.

"Hello, Sherlock. Miss me?" It was Moriarty. Sherlock was sure that he was ready for whatever he would throw at him


	8. Chapter 8

**Hey guys. Thanks as always for reading. Enjoy the chapter. **

Chapter 8

John kept thinking of the possible scenarios where Sherlock would get the upper hand on the criminals. He knew it would happen. He just didn't know how. Sherlock would know what to do.

As he was alone with his thoughts the door opened. It was Gabriel.

"Come on you. Let's go." He untied John's feet, and led him out of the room. John was roughly brought to the front of the door, just behind where Moriarty was. He was pleasantly surprised to see Sherlock was there. Good, good.

"Dear Sherlock, I believe that John here has something to tell you," Moriarty said. Sherlock looked to John, hoping that John would see the apologetic look on his face. He wished they hadn't involved John.

Gabriel shoved John over towards Sherlock and undid his gag.

"Sherlock!" John cried. "Look, um, there is a slight set back here. I'm going to need you to talk to me. Please." John suddenly felt sick. Could he convince Sherlock to speak to him?

Sherlock shot him a rare questioning glance. Now, Sherlock was good, but not even he could read people's minds.

"They gave me a note, Sherlock. They're going to kill thousands if you don't speak to me. They're a bomb somewhere. They gave me 48 hours. I don't know how long ago that was now." Johns voice was shaking.

"You have 2 hours left," Gabriel replied. Another knock at the door revealed that Christophe had joined them.

"I'm glad our little sniper is back," Moriarty said happily. "Has the bomb been planted?"

"Of course it has", Christophe replied. He sent Moriarty a glare. Christophe was clearly someone who did not appreciate being messed with. At all.

"So what is it, Sherlock? Are you going to kill thousands or kill your only friend?" Moriarty replied.

Sherlock said nothing. His eyes lingered on Moriarty for a moment, before he tried to grab for John. Christophe was quick to stop him. Sherlock was, however, one step ahead of him. Right as Sherlock had the upper hand, Moriarty started talking.

"Not so fast, Sherlock. If you do anything to us, you will never find the bomb. Only we can disable it."

"And don't try to talk to us, it won't kill us," Gabriel quipped. Sherlock already knew that. He found this guy slightly moronic. He made sure that Gabriel knew it by sneering at him.

"You can have your little pet back. We don't need him anymore. He'll die soon anyway. Unless you really are the sociopath you claim to be," Moriarty said. He looked to Sherlock.

Sherlock scowled at him, but he already had a plan in motion. There was one weak point in this group, and that was Charlie. He was really the unknown variable in all of this. It was clear that Gabriel was behind this, and Moriarty was running the show. If he could go to Charlie, he might be able to put the final pieces into the puzzle and solve this crime. He already had a few places where the bomb could be, but with not much time left on the clock, so he had to act fast and cover all his boundaries.

He grabbed John, and ran out of the door. John knew immediately to call for a taxi. Christophe, of course, was right on their tail. Sherlock knew there was no time to lose because he was racing the clock, and he did not want to have to make unfortunate decisions at anyone's expense.


	9. Chapter 9

Chapter 9

Sherlock had gotten into contact with Lestrade. He had John speak to him on the phone, and John relayed back all the details about Lestrade's encounter with Charlie. He didn't know whether Lestrade was having the wool pulled over his eyes, or whether Charlie actually wanted to help him out. He suspected the latter based off of everything that he had witnessed: the nervousness, the relief after having talked to Sherlock, and the fact that his writing was on the paper. It all made sense. Charlie was being overworked, and it was this that made Sherlock hopeful.

Plus, Sherlock could be very convincing. They were soon back at the house. Sherlock looked to John. He could already see John sizing up the house. John would be very beneficial in all of this. Sherlock knew that Charlie made a big error when he said he hired Christophe. Sherlock already knew that Christophe didn't like Moriarty. So, if he could convince Charlie to come to their side, Christophe might follow.

Sherlock thought of this for a second. No, there was no way they would get Christophe. The least they would be able to do was to get Christophe to not kill Charlie.

Both John and Sherlock walked up to the house and knocked on the front door. They waited as they heard footsteps towards the door. The door opened and Charlie appeared.

"Sherlock. So good of you to come. And you must be John. Nice to meet you," Charlie said.

Sherlock knew that Charlie was still playing his part like his was in a play.

Sherlock forced his way in, and John followed right after. He shoved Charlie up against the wall. There was no time for niceties. "Look, there are a lot of people about to die, and you are the only one who can help us," Sherlock said. Charlie raised his eyebrows in shock.

"What makes you think I want to help?" Charlie replied. "You do realize that I was only toying with Lestrade." He laughed. He hoped that Sherlock and John wouldn't notice the sweat beginning to form on his forehead.

"Because I know the type of person you are. You're smart, but tend to follow orders too easily. You are desperate to be appreciated, and you will do whatever it takes to gain people's appreciation. You somehow have gotten mixed up with this crowd. Maybe it was for your intelligence. Maybe it was for your mindless obedience. Nevertheless, you suffer from severe anxiety, which is only worsened by extreme situations. You would never call yourself a bad person, no. After one of your significant others broke up with you, your broken heart led you astray. You live in your parent's house now, because it was left to you in a will. Lastly, I know you want to help because you weren't just toying with Lestrade. You were keeping your options open. It gave you a way to get in with the top, and, if not, you had a scapegoat afterwards. So, do you want to help us out or not?" Sherlock smiled at him. Charlie's eyes widened.

"Uh-h-h," he stuttered. His nerves were ever-increasing and he was trying to wiggle his way out of Sherlock's grip. Charlie thought for a moment. This could be his opportunity to do real good in the world. He didn't really want anyone to die. He could be a hero again. He could easily be killed if he did this though.

"Can you let me go so I can think," he finally said. Sherlock loosened his grip. Charlie went into the next room and sat down on the couch. He looked to the clock. It looks like they only had one hour left. Even with his help they would be racing the clock.

"Okay. I'll help you. Only if you can promise me protection," Charlie said. He let out a long sigh. He hoped this wasn't a mistake.

"You're working with Sherlock Holmes, Charlie. You'll be well protected," John replied.

"So, where is the bomb?" Sherlock asked.

"Westfield London."


	10. Chapter 10

**Thanks as always for reading! I've had a very busy weekend again. Anyway, I hope you enjoy this chapter.**

Chapter 10

Gabriel looked to Moriarty moments after Sherlock and John had left.

"Does this put a damper on our plans?" he asked.

"Of course not. It will only allow us to have more fun!" Moriarty replied. Gabriel had to admit the man was a raving psychopath, but at least he was on his side. He began to grow anxious about Charlie. Gabriel had taken him under his wing, so to speak, after Charlie's fiancée broke off the engagement. He feared that Sherlock could easily convince him to change sides, and that wouldn't do at all. At least Charlie didn't know the exact location of the bomb.

"Well, we are going to follow them now. We can't miss the action," Moriarty squealed. "Come on." Gabriel sighed and walked out the door behind Moriarty. He followed Moriarty a few blocks down the street until they came across a luxury sports car.

"Nice car," Gabriel said.

Moriarty laughed. "This isn't mine! Well, it wasn't mine." He laughed. He took out some kind of device and stuck it into the keyhole of the car. Within seconds the car was open. Moriarty gestured for Gabriel to get into the passenger's seat. Moriarty then took the same device, and used it to start the car. Gabriel was extremely impressed. He needed this guy on his side more often.

It didn't take them long at all to reach Charlie's house. Moriarty had no regard towards any of the rules of driving, so he floored it the whole way. Gabriel would never admit to the near heart attack he almost had driving with him. He wasn't a nervous man at all, but driving 150 kph with a mad man made him a little afraid.

They walked up the sidewalk to the front of the house. It really was an eerily quaint place, and it really didn't fit Charlie at all. Once at the door, Gabriel put his hand up to knock, but Moriarty stopped him.

"Come on now, there's no need to knock." Moriarty took out his lock opener again and used it. Gabriel felt that Moriarty was just showing off at this point. He followed Moriarty into the house and they soon entered the room where Sherlock, John, and Charlie were.

They didn't seem to be at odds. Gabriel glared at Charlie. Both Sherlock and John stood up when they saw Moriarty and Gabriel enter the room.

"What's going on here?" Gabriel asked them. Sherlock said nothing.

"Charlie…" Gabriel said in a warning tone. Charlie just stared at him with blank eyes. Gabriel walked over to him and pulled him up by his shirt. Charlie wasn't a very big guy, whereas Gabriel was very tall.

"Tell me what is going on, Charlie!" he exclaimed. His temper was flaring up. He tried to play it cool. Charlie looked desperately to Sherlock and John and then back at Gabriel.

"Uh-h-h, they were just trying to get me to reveal the location of the bomb," Charlie replied.

"And..?"

"I may have told them the location," Charlie winced. He was suddenly shaking. He may have just made a huge mistake.

Moriarty was incredibly silent during this whole ordeal.

"Good! Give them hope. They'll never find the bomb on time," Moriarty said, breaking his own silence.

Gabriel turned to Moriarty. "How can you be so sure?"

"Well, because I have this," Moriarty replied as he whipped out a gun. Sherlock and John both simultaneously made a leap for the gun. Moriarty was able to side-step John, but Sherlock had anticipated his move, and he went barreling into him. Moriarty quickly regained balance, and his grip was like a deadlock on the gun.

Moriarty quickly pointed the gun at Sherlock and said, "Not so fast, Sherlock. It would be unfortunate to have to end this little game early."

Sherlock backed away reluctantly. Gabriel could see the calculating look in his eyes.

"There is something here that doesn't belong," Moriarty said abruptly. "I think we all know WHO it is." He moved his gun from Sherlock to Charlie.

Before anyone had time to react the trigger was pulled. Gabriel gasped as Charlie feel out of his hands and onto the floor.

_Should I have brought Moriarty into this? _were Gabriel's last thoughts before chaos was unleashed.


	11. Chapter 11

**I think the conclusion is almost upon us! I really hope you have been enjoying the story.**

Chapter 11

_No! _Sherlock thought as he saw Charlie fall to the ground. John quickly ran over to him.

"He's still breathing!" he exclaimed.

"Now we can't have that now, can we?" Moriarty replied and cocked his gun again. This time Sherlock was faster and pulled the gun from his hand.

Moriarty frowned at Sherlock. 'Why do you always ruin my fun?" Sherlock said nothing. He knew that time was running out.

He looked to John for a further update on Charlie. "He could easily die. He has to go to a hospital now."

_We don't have time_, Sherlock thought. _I did promise to protect Charlie. You know what, I have a plan that will work. _He dialed 999 and handed it to John.

John quickly told the dispatcher the situation, and they said they would send someone as soon as possible. Sherlock knew that unfortunately they would have to leave Charlie there and hope for the best.

Sherlock then walked towards the door and out. John followed behind, with Moriarty and Gabriel following soon after. Sherlock thought it was odd that Moriarty was being so sedate. Surely he had something bigger going on.

John got ready to call a taxi, when Moriarty said, "You guys can drive with me!" Sherlock knew better than to trust him, but the limit on time caused him to get into the car. Plus, he knew he could overtake Moriarty if needed.

The ride was extremely uneventful, besides Moriarty's crazy driving. Sherlock became more and more suspicious of what was going on. Moriarty had actually driven them to the mall. Moriarty probably just wanted to watch him fail. Too bad that wouldn't happen. Sherlock knew that he had little under an hour to find the bomb, and if not he would have to make a very painful decision.

Sherlock went right to work as soon as he stepped out of the car. He had to find the bomb fast. He thought of the most logical places he could think of, and he showed John a list of places to check.

They both hurried through the mall, looking everywhere. They checked the bathrooms, storage rooms, and every nook and cranny they could think of, to no avail. Sherlock checked his phone for the time. He only had fifteen minutes left. He cursed to himself. How was it possible that he had not found the bomb?

The thought that it didn't exist had crossed his mind. From the way that Moriarty and especially Gabriel were acting, it did seem that there was, indeed, a bomb. He also knew for a fact that Charlie had told the truth, or at least a believed truth.

His question now was whether Charlie had known the entire truth or if he had been fed a lie. He then realized that the bomb was here, and Moriarty just wanted to see him squirm. He kept searching and searching, but to no avail. Even if he could pinpoint the exact location, it would still be nearly impossible for him to find it in time.

He had also found a few decoy bombs, which was just infuriating. He was never NOT able to solve a crime, how could he not find this bomb?

He looked at his watch, five minutes. It was now decision time.

MEET ME WHERE WE CAME IN he texted John. He hoped John would come soon. He still didn't know what to do. He saw Moriarty, Gabriel, and Christophe heading in his direction. He kept walking until he was near the entrance.

He went over to a bench and sat down. He closed his eyes. It was almost time. He calculated the best way to save everyone. Could this be the first time he couldn't win a case?

Moriarty was quickly by his side. "Tick tock, there isn't much time." Sherlock looked to his clock. Two minutes. He hoped John came soon.

He then saw John running up. "I couldn't find it!" he exclaimed with a huge tone of sadness. "Sherlock, you know what you have to do."

Sherlock sighed. With a feeling of despair he had never felt before, he said the hardest words he ever had to say, "I'm sorry, John." With those words a deafening shot rang out and a thump was heard. Sherlock closed his eyes, afraid for one of the first times in his life.


	12. Chapter 12

Chapter 12

When Sherlock opened his eyes, he was greeted to a situation that he had calculated as highly possible. John was fine, and Christophe had been the one shot. Through careful deduction and reasoning, he had set up an elaborate plot in his mind. He had hoped to find the bomb, but time had not been on his side. So, a back-up solution had been on his mind. Charlie. He had deduced that Charlie was just well enough to elude the EMTs and come and seek his revenge. Charlie was motivated, and Sherlock knew the odds of him coming were extremely probable. He even thought that the timing would be perfect, and his thoughts had turned out to be right.

Charlie had arrived at the precise needed moment and shot Christophe. Sherlock was satisfied that he had, indeed, calculated his way through this one. No innocent people had died.

He had never been so happy to see John alive. He knew he could have miscalculated though, and that miscalculation could have cost his dear friend's life.

He was quickly snapped out of his thoughts by Moriarty. "It is time for my show to begin. Finally. This was so dull." Moriarty pulled out a gun, and shot Gabriel in the forehead, before anyone else had time to react.

"Wha-," Gabriel gasped, but his voice was quickly drowned out by blood. There was silence, and Sherlock knew that he was dead. He shook his head. No one should ever try to use Moriarty. Moriarty only uses others.

Moriarty was looking more and more excited, and less and less sane. He was holding a gun to John's head.

"You know you can never beat me Sherlock. There is no bomb here! While you were trying to search for it, I found it and disabled it." Sherlock gave him a knowing glance. He should have deduced this, but he was glad that he had only not found the bomb because it wasn't there.

"I'm cleverer than you, Sherlock. We both know it," Moriarty said. There was a crowd of people on their phones all around them. Some seemed to have restrained Charlie, because he had shot Christophe.

"It is time to leave," Moriarty said. Sherlock had no choice but to follow. Moriarty grabbed Charlie while still holding the gun to John, and they all walked back to Moriarty's car. Moriarty had John roughly by the arm and shoved him into the passenger's seat, while Sherlock and Charlie got into the backseat. Sherlock looked to Charlie.

_He looks like he's on his deathbed, _Sherlock thought gravely_. _

They got into Moriarty's car, and were driven back to the headquarters' of Gabriel. The foursome got out of the car and went into the building.

Moriarty wasted no time in telling Sherlock his plan. "Sherlock. I'm going to make this simple so your mind can understand." Sherlock winced at the jab. "I'm giving you this gun. You can shoot Charlie, and John goes free. If not, I'm going to kill your little pet." He handed Sherlock the gun.

Sherlock was quick as lightning and took a shot at Moriarty. Moriarty was somehow faster and stepped out of the way.

"You really shouldn't have done that," Moriarty teased. He raised his gun and shot John is the head before Sherlock had time to do anything. "Come on Sherlock. You knew this had to happen. Poor Sherlock. Now he's all alone in the world."

Sherlock was in a blind rage, which made him even more upset because he almost always had complete control over his emotions. He slammed his gun into Moriarty's head. Moriarty tried to then take a shot at Charlie, although it was clear the hit had affected him. Sherlock slammed him on the head again and again, until Moriarty fell.

Sherlock looked at Moriarty. He was smirking, even though Sherlock knew he was unconscious. Sherlock quickly knelt to where John was laying.

"Sherlock," John whispered. "It is okay. I knew this would happen." He was struggling to breathe. "Thanks for being the best friend a man could ask for." John closed his eyes.

"John. Stop talking like this. I WILL SOLVE THIS. You are not going to die."

John half opened his eyes. "There are some cases you can't solve," he said sadly and then he stopped moving.

"NO!" Sherlock yelled. He would not have it end like this. He knew he was going to have to resuscitate him.

"Charlie," he cried as he tried to resuscitate John . "Call an ambulance. Now." Charlie was shaking as he dialed 999.

He was able to revitalize John, barely, but he wasn't sure that John would live.

After a small amount of time, he heard sirens. A single tear dropped from his eye onto the ground. He hoped he had done enough.


	13. Chapter 13

Chapter 13

Sherlock had been sitting in the hospital waiting room for over ten hours. John was in surgery now. Sherlock knew that the odds weren't looking good. He knew the statistics. It was extremely unlikely John would survive.

He had called Lestrade a few hours back in hopes of Lestrade retrieving Moriarty. He had yet to hear a response from him since then. Sherlock hoped he was okay. Moriarty had a high chance of being conscious by the time Lestrade would get there.

Charlie had finished his surgery. The bullet had missed all of his vital organs, but the blood loss had caused him problems. Charlie was in critical, but stable condition and Sherlock was sure he would survive.

The waiting was the worst part. He told John he would fix this. He had to. He didn't want his last words to John to be a lie. Moriarty couldn't win.

At hour eleven Lestrade came to join him in his wait. He hadn't been able to find Moriarty. Sherlock figured this would happen. He sighed. He knew Moriarty would appear again when he was ready. Sherlock would be ready for him.

At hour twelve a doctor came to relay news to Sherlock. Before the doctor said a word, Sherlock knew John would survive. His breathing calmed after this. Everything was going to be okay. He had beaten Moriarty. He could go home for now.

A few days later he was able to visit John for the first time. He was briefed by the doctors on John's condition. It was extremely lucky that John was alive. Somehow the bullet had missed all of the brain's vital functions, and John was able expected to make a full recovery.

He stepped into the room and saw John hooked up to a bunch of machines. John looked up at Sherlock as he entered.

"You look awful," Sherlock said.

_What does one say in these circumstances?_ He wondered. John gave him a sad smile.

"I told you that you would survive."

"Thanks," John whispered. Sherlock went and sat by his bedside.

"Lestrade couldn't find Moriarty. I have been keeping tabs on him, so don't worry. Charlie is still in here, but he is doing okay. He turned out to be quite an asset didn't he?" Sherlock sat with his hands making a V against his lips. "I'm glad you're alright, John."

One month later John was back at home. He hadn't yet made a full recovery, but he was doing extremely well. He was going to therapy now, mostly emotional.

Sherlock had stopped keeping tabs on Moriarty, and he knew he would come back eventually. Sherlock was mostly glad that the case of notes was closed and that his best friend was back in his life.

John was currently reading the papers. Sherlock was tapping his fingers as we stared at the ceiling. As he went to his mind palace he heard John make a gasping noise.

"Look, Sherlock!" he exclaimed. He showed Sherlock the page he was reading.

Sherlock smiled. He was ready for a new case to begin.

THE END

**Hey, thanks for reading my story. I'd love to know what you guys thought of it. Any constructive criticism would be nice as well. If I do write a sequel what would you be interested in reading? Also, would you ever want Charlie to make a cameo again? Again, thank you for all of your support. **


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